Age of Empyre, page 7
part #6 of Legends of the First Empire Series
“Some call it the Needle.” Fenelyus had said.
Brin paused at the base and looked up.
The door to Alysin is at the top.
Her light revealed jagged rocks with ledges and plenty of cracks and crevices. Brin reached up, gripped one of the many handholds, and pulled. Hoisting her body to the nearest ledge was like lifting a pillow filled with no more than ten feathers. She climbed to the next ledge, and the next, feeling exhilarated. As inspiration took over, Brin’s excitement grew and she found herself jumping through the air and catching one outcropping after another.
This is so easy! Climbing out is possible.
She let go and floated down.
Elated at her discovery, Brin grinned. Not only had she found the pillar and proved that the climb was possible, she had also managed to develop a mental map of the Abyss. The broken bridge was at the center of the canyon, and the Breakwaters were at one end, nearest the queen’s tower. On the opposite side was the Alysin Pillar. To the right lay the giant tunnel where she had left everyone. To the left lay . . . she wasn’t sure what.
Just one way to find out, she told herself.
Returning to the center of the bridge’s debris, she turned left and began walking—in the direction she arbitrarily proclaimed to be north. She hadn’t traveled far on the open expanse of frost-covered ground when she reached a wide track of bare rock. One portion led due north; the other curved toward one of the many fissures heading roughly in what would be east.
It’s like a road, but to where?
She’d begun to follow it north when far ahead she saw something—a light. It was the only thing she was able to see at such a distance. Outside of Gifford’s pale glow, Brin had found no source of illumination beyond her own.
People! she thought. Maybe it’s a whole city of them, helping one another cope and drawing strength from the entire community. Except . . .
This light was different, not the pale-white or bluish color that she and Gifford gave off. This one had a decidedly red glow, and it wasn’t firelight because it didn’t flicker. There was nothing warm about it. Appearing like a rose-colored rising sun, it had to be enormous given the great distance between her and it. Then, as she watched, she realized it was moving—coming at her. That’s when she heard the sound again. That horrible rumbling beat.
Not a city. The source of that light is something that moves along this road, whose passage has worn it away.
This time Brin did not ask herself what Moya might do. She didn’t care. She wasn’t Moya, and the red light scared her. Every instinct she possessed told her to leave, and quickly. Turning away, she ran.
“We can get out,” Brin told them. “I’ve found the pillar that leads to the Alysin Door, and it’s easy to climb. We shouldn’t have much trouble.”
The news, Brin was confident, was the remedy. Once they heard their troubles were over, hope would return. They would glow with the joy of relief. Strength would surge back into them in the same way that Roan and Tesh had managed to restore themselves after receiving the power of love and reassurance that Gifford and Brin had administered. They would rise up and as soon as she was certain that nasty red glow had gone its normal route up the road, she would lead them out and they would begin scaling the pillar. Together they could do it. Brin was certain of that.
But they did not glow or rise.
They looked back with those same tired eyes.
“How?” Gifford asked, sitting up with his arms around Roan, whose head was nestled on his chest.
Brin knelt down before them. “I just told you. I found the pillar, the one with the door to Alysin on top. It’s so easy to climb.”
Gifford blinked. Tesh rocked back. Roan opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Tressa simply laughed, a cold miserable sound. “Did you say climb? As in—all the way back up to where we fell from?”
Brin frowned. “Yes, of course.”
“Brin,” Tesh said, “I don’t think I could walk up a flight of stairs.”
“I might be able to climb,” Gifford said. “But, Brin, you’re talking about—I don’t know—miles maybe—miles straight up.”
“But we don’t get tired—not in here, not really. And it doesn’t look that difficult. Besides, difficult hasn’t stopped us before. Defying Konniger was hard; getting past Gronbach was hopeless; defeating Udgar and subduing the Gula was futile; fighting Balgargarath was absurd; winning against the full force of the fane was impossible—but each time we succeeded. I think we can again. The handholds are plentiful, and there are lots of ledges to rest on. It will be easy.”
“For you, maybe,” Tressa said. The woman was sprawled against the wall, her head slumped off to one side as if she were a rag puppet that a dog had just finished playing with. “I swear I weigh a thousand pounds down here. It’s so much worse than when we were on the Plain of Kilcorth. And my bones are still broken.”
“But you don’t actually weigh anything, and you don’t have bones. If you really weighed so much, you’d have cracked the stone when you hit. Did you?”
“Honestly, I didn’t check. Maybe.”
“Come on. You have to try. Stand up. All of you. Let’s go. Right now. You’ll see. Once you get started, when you understand how easy it is, you’ll gain confidence and strength, and with each step, it will get easier.”
“It’s not that we want to stay here, Brin,” Tesh said. “But it’s like you’re asking us to sprout wings and fly. I can’t do that. It took every ounce of effort I had just to walk over here.”
“He’s right,” Roan said. “I’m exhausted, too.”
“Okay. Fine. We can wait a while. You rest, but as soon as you’re able, we climb.”
The crack in the back of the cave bothered Brin, like when a tongue probed the empty spot after a tooth came loose. She’d been staring at it for . . . she actually didn’t know how long. That was one of the problems with the afterlife. There was no way to tell time. Maybe it didn’t exist. There were events certainly, one followed the next, but time as she had always understood it didn’t seem to apply anymore. If nothing happened—if she sat in one place like the Breakwaters, as she was doing right now—she was certain time stopped. Maybe not for everyone, but it would for her.
The others remained clustered near the wall where they had first collapsed. She could see Gifford’s light, and Roan glowed, but with far less radiance. Her light was overwhelmed by his. Tesh had no light at all, and Tressa . . . Brin had refused to believe it before, but there was no denying it now. Tressa emitted a darkness. All of them together didn’t come close to Brin’s brilliance, which illuminated one whole side of the cavern.
For a long time, she had waited near the tunnel’s entrance, keeping watch for the source of that red glow and horrible noise. On a regular basis, she heard it approach before fading away once more.
Whatever it is, it’s following a route, patrolling. Is it habit or is the red light looking for something?
Brin didn’t know how, but she sensed the red light was bad, something to be feared and avoided.
She returned often to check on the progress of the others. They never appeared any better. If anything, they seemed worse. Knowing their weakness wasn’t physical, she tried to cheer them up. She told them stories, the ones Maeve had forced her to practice so long ago, tales of heroes overcoming massive adversity. Chronicles of men and women who—even when they were certain they couldn’t win—tried and somehow persevered.
That’s what stories are for, Brin realized. They are magic that aid people in times like this. They provide hope, a light to see by when all others are snuffed out.
Her companions appreciated the tales, and they looked a bit better as she recited them, but the healing properties weren’t good enough. Tressa was hardly able to lift her head.
Brin was getting frustrated by their lack of progress and went off to sit on her own. That was when she noticed the opening in the back of the tunnel. She moved toward it and sat down, chin on hands, elbows on knees, staring for what could have been hours.
“You’re looking at the crack, aren’t you?” Roan said, shattering Brin’s timeless bubble. She’d crept over so soundlessly that Brin jumped.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No—no, it’s wonderful,” Brin said and shifted over, giving Roan a space to sit. “I’m glad to see you up and moving around. Are you feeling better?”
“A little. Your stories help.”
“That’s great. I’ll tell more then. We need to get out of here, Roan. Think of Moya, Tekchin, and Rain up there with the queen. She might be torturing them. If we can just—”
“It’s too high for us, Brin.” Roan said, shutting her down. “Your stories help, but they’re not enough. They treat the symptom, not the malady.”
“It’s only another problem, Roan. A puzzle to be worked out. You’re so good at that—the Land of Nog, remember?”
“I didn’t name it that.”
“No, you made it that. All I’m asking is that you figure a way to get everyone up that pillar.”
Roan looked away with defeat in her eyes. Brin realized that Roan couldn’t do it—wouldn’t do it—because she didn’t think it was possible. This was a side of her friend that Brin had never seen before. Usually, Roan thought anything was possible. She often speculated that with the right resources she could fly, make it rain, and eliminate sickness from the world.
What’s happening to her? How can she believe that escaping the Abyss is beyond her reach? And if it’s too far for the Wizard of Nog, what chance do the others have?
“Those lost to the Abyss are never seen again.”
“Wait!” Brin raised a finger, holding up the point she was about to make. “What about Rain? Beatrice saw that in the future he would be a king, and he can’t leave without Tressa’s key. So getting out must be possible. She saw it happen!”
Roan looked uncomfortable and drew her feet in as if to stand. She was going to leave.
“Or maybe Beatrice is crazy,” Brin quickly said. She smiled. “Don’t go.”
Roan hesitated, as if deciding.
“And yes, to answer your question,” Brin added. “I was looking at the crack. It’s stupid, but I feel like I’ve . . . I don’t know, that I’ve seen it before.”
“You have,” Roan said, letting her legs stretch out across the stone again. “We’ve both seen the three boulders over there, too.”
Brin turned around and gasped. “You’re right.” She still couldn’t remember where, but she had seen them—them and the crack. “How—” Then the two clicked together in her mind and everything made sense. Not according to reason but rather a sort of dream logic. She remembered. The whole thing was impossible, and yet . . .
Brin stood up. Her light extended farther, but not far enough. “If this is the crack—if this is that crack—then . . .” Brin began to walk toward it. “But it can’t be.”
“We were down pretty deep.” Roan slowly got to her feet and followed.
“Not this deep.” Brin purposely moved very slowly. She wanted Roan to stay with her as the two crept toward the back of the cave.
“Then how do you explain the crack?” Roan asked. She was directly behind, her words giving voice to Brin’s own thoughts.
“It is the same, isn’t it?” Brin said. “And it’s hard to forget that opening. We stared at it for so long.”
Brin felt Roan take her hand. Roan had never touched her before—by accident sometimes, but not intentionally and certainly not for more than a second. Roan was better about contact these days. She didn’t panic the way she used to, but as far as Brin knew, Gifford was still the only one whose touch she was comfortable with. Brin was so shocked that she looked down to make sure it was Roan’s fingers she felt. Together they moved forward, watching as the far edge of Brin’s light revealed more and more of the rock and floor. Then Roan stopped and gasped. Brin saw it, too. On the ground was what looked like a stick, but it wasn’t. Too straight, and there was a sharpened stone tip: a tiny spear—an arrow.
“Mother of All,” Brin said, wide-eyed.
Brin bent down and tried to pick it up, but she was unable to affect it, just as she couldn’t alter the stone they stood on.
“It’s the practice arrow,” Roan said. “The one Persephone made Moya warm up with before going after Balgargarath, the one she flung into the dark.”
“How can it be here?”
Roan didn’t answer. The two moved ahead once more, slower this time.
“There.” Roan pointed.
Brin caught the glint of silver metal on the floor near the wall. “I can’t believe it.”
Reaching down, Brin tried to pick up Persephone’s lost torc, but just as with the arrow, she could feel but not move it. Then Brin stood and looked at Roan. “We’re in the Agave again.”
Brin noticed that Roan’s light was brighter.
Was it hope? Maybe with Roan, a puzzle of this magnitude is fuel.
They advanced to the crack at the rear wall, but now Brin realized it wasn’t the rear but the front. Beyond it, there would be the pool with the blue glowing lichen and the stair that led up. They could get out as they had before: by climbing the steps through Neith to emerge at Caric, on the banks of the Blue Sea.
Brin was only inches away from the crack. When she stepped forward, intending to pass through the rip that Balgargarath had torn open, she hit something solid, bounced back, and fell.
Roan reached out, and her hand was likewise blocked. “It’s the division between the worlds.” She looked back. “When the little men and Moya were exploring, they found something like this, but it was back there.” She pointed past the boulders. “This place, the Agave, is like a bubble that extends into both worlds. The area between is common to each but there is also a separation that keeps the two worlds apart. Coming from Neith, the barrier is back there, but coming from the Abyss, the barrier is at this crack. But beyond it . . .” Roan rotated slowly, her eyes taking everything in, nodding as she put the pieces together.
Brin had her own revelation. “This is where the Ancient One was. He wasn’t imprisoned—he was dead! But he got out, so we can, too.”
Roan shook her head.
“Don’t do that,” Brin snapped. This was the answer, their salvation. Maybe they couldn’t climb the pillar, but they could get to the back of the stupid cave. She and Gifford could drag them if necessary. The weight of Nifrel, which had intensified in the Abyss, would be gone once they were back on the face of Elan. “We can get past this barrier. We have the key. This makes everything work out. Beatrice wasn’t crazy. Malcolm is right, and the key really can open any door!”
Roan nodded. “Yes, the key will likely work, but it won’t help us.”
“What do you mean?” Brin thrust a pointed finger at the crack. “That’s our way out.”
“I don’t think so.”
Brin wanted to slap her. “Why not?”
“Three reasons. One, our bodies aren’t nearby. They’re back in a mud puddle in the Swamp of Ith, and—”
“So we’ll travel as—I don’t know—as ghosts, I guess. We’ll be like Meeks. We can sneak aboard a trade ship going from Caric to Tirre. Then we can walk back to Ith and get our bodies.”
“It will take too long. Our bodies will rot. We’ll remain ghosts.”
Brin frowned. “Well, it’s better than being in here.”
“We’ll also fail our quest. Give up on Suri. We’ll have died for nothing.”
This reason had more impact, and Brin paused to consider it. As she did, Roan added one more rock to the pile.
“Third, we can’t pass through stone.”
Brin struggled to understand. “Why would we need to—”
“Suri collapsed the mountain, remember? Neith is buried under a mountain of rubble. We won’t be able to get through it.”
“You don’t know that for sure. You’re only guessing.”
“That’s true,” Roan conceded. “But it’s likely.”
“We need to at least try. I’m getting really tired of everyone just giving up. C’mon, let’s get the key and—” Brin saw the apprehension in Roan’s eyes. “Okay, fine. You wait here. I’ll go fetch it.”
Roan smiled, nodded, then sat down right where she was. Their little stroll must have been difficult for her.
Brin returned to the others. They hadn’t moved. If anything, they appeared more settled, less upright. Everyone appeared to be sleeping.
“Tressa,” she said gently, “can you hear me?”
The older woman opened her eyes but said nothing.
“May I borrow the key?”
“So you’re leaving us at last?”
“No, but I think I might have found a way for everyone to get out.”
Tressa looked at Tesh, then at Gifford and gave a sigh. “Fine. But you’ll have to take it off me. I can’t . . . I don’t have the strength.”
Brin crouched down beside her. As she reached around Tressa’s neck and the two were cheek to cheek, Tressa reached up and grabbed Brin’s arm. The older woman whispered in her ear, “There’s a secret you need to know. Something Malcolm told me, the last thing. He said I had to wait until the very end because as he explained, ‘Brin is the only one who’s going to make it, so she’s the only one who needs to know.’ ”
Brin gasped. “What?” she said, trying to pull back, but Tressa’s grip was too tight.
Tressa went on, her voice barely loud enough to hear. “We didn’t come for Suri. This quest was never about her. Malcolm needed us to do something far more important but knew we wouldn’t go unless I said it was to save the mystic. The real reason for this trip is to return with something called the Horn of Gylindora. It’s like the key, made of both Eton and Elan, so you’ll be able to carry it back through Phyre.”
Brin shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Did you really think the doors to the afterlife were opened for us to save the life of one wild mystic girl? Suri would have to die if she were to return with us, and I’m shocked none of you geniuses realized that. This has always been about more. Much more. If you can get that horn to Nyphron, not only will it end the war, but we’ll also help fix the world that Malcolm broke. And that will be beneficial for everyone . . . everywhere.”
